In the roof space of silence
And echoed evensong
A place on this morning
Untouched yet reached for
Held up by stone pillars
As for worshipful gatherings
My prayer, my poem
Of a few simple words
Wide lake of sidelights
And shadows grace is falling
Just by being still with you
Together to gather
Sitting on the slat wood
Sitting in the pew
Unset offset imagination
Inactive, attractive so so soon
Do you propagate wild flowers
Poppies, evening primroses
Which close then open
At the same time of sunset
Open through the night
Splashing their perfume
The old peculiars
Of tobacco, and Old Spice
Dominoes, counting games
Maybe one day she might
Except once, when more unable
Tables turned and you edged away
Out uneasily from beneath
Or beyond the stairway of silence
Swift in flight did you not see
The forbearance of the night
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